Her Eyes
by Scritch
Summary: “They’re gone, Ginny… they’re gone…” Ginny is wasting away, after those she loves most have been taken from her.


**A/N: **Set during the final war against Voldemort.

**Her Eyes**

"They're gone, Ginny... they're gone."

She was frozen, her pale face the waxy white colour of death, and for a terrifying moment he thought she might have joined them.

Her eyes met his, wide in shock.

Then she fell to her knees, and he imagined that the carnage had begun again as a keening wail tore from her throat, ripping itself from the deepest place in her soul to claw its way to the surface where it filled his ears and heart.

A shudder rippled visibly through his body, mirrored tenfold by the convulsions wracking her.

And her agonized howls continued as she wept tears of blood and water, each one taking a small part of him with them.

- - - -

It broke his heart to see her like this.

"Ginny?" he whispered, softly.

She turned her head slowly, eyes dark with pain, glistening with tears. How many tears could she cry before she wasted away? He could see her future self in his mind's eye; thin, frail. The bones in her back stick out horribly, the veins her hands raised. Her eyes are huge in her face, sunken in her head, as if every part of her wants to retreat inside herself as far as possible.

"Ginny..." he moaned her name, able to say no more. He settled her in his lap and cradled her closely. She was limp, a rag doll in his arms.

She didn't speak. She never did, anymore. And her tears fell silently.

- - - -

"Oh, god, Ginny..."

She didn't respond. Clutter surrounded her and she was collapsed on the floor as if defeated. Damp spots were marked on the carpet, and he sniffed tentatively for the smell of urine as he stepped closer. Nothing. Salt. He frowned, kneeling down in front of her; tilted her tear-streaked chin up.

Oh, the sorrow there. It echoed the suffering of loss that consumed her, eating away at anything sane or human that she had left in her. He looked down, away from her pain.

Ron and him, in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, smiling and waving.

He turned from the pain.

The twins standing in front of their shop, winking and laughing as they handed out free samples of their latest product.

Turned from the pain.

Bill and Fleur, kissing lovingly at the altar. Bill had removed his fang earring for the ceremony.

Turned from the-

Mr and Mrs Weasley smiled at him from amongst the scattered pile of photos.

Turned-

Her soft mewl drew his attention.

Not now. She needed him.

- - - -

Her eyes were dry and blank.

It frightened him.

When she was empty, so was he. And he wanted to mourn. God, he wanted to vent his pain the way she had! But he couldn't. Not when she was so lost.

"Ginny... please..."

- - - -

She was so thin. He could feel her ribs when he hugged her.

He always hugged her. Never the other way around.

Her robotic movements hurt him. Her lack of response wounded him.

Her meaningless existence angered him.

They were on the couch. She always stared straight ahead. He watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest, as if each breath she took needed more effort than she could give. Monotonous repetition.

Her eyes were dead.

He jumped up violently, unexpectedly, banging his knee on the coffee table and knocking over a vase. He wanted to startle her, wanted her to jump up too and curse him for making such noise.

She didn't move. He searched desperately for a flicker of a reaction. Nothing.

Nothing.

Pained hopelessness turned to pained fury.

"They were my friends, too, Ginny!" he screamed. He wanted to shake her, yell in her ear, make her listen, make her wake up! "They were my family, too! You're not the only one that's hurting!"

Had she moved?

Was that something in her eyes?

And finally, he allowed the tears to begin to fall.

"We all lost them – not just you!" He nearly choked on the thickness in his throat, had to force the words past his lips.

Did she shudder?

"Stop killing yourself as if no one cares but you!

"Oh, god, Ginny!"

He fell, his legs unable to hold his weight any longer. His glasses fell, blurring everything – or perhaps they were still on, and he couldn't see through the film of tears over his eyes.

He thought he heard her sobs.

But they were his own.

How long was he on the floor? How long before the sobs decreased, the flow of tears slowed?  
"Harry?"

It was so soft, he thought he'd imagined it.

Her eyes recognized him.

Her eyes were lost and frightened, squinting as if they hadn't seen light in so long.

Her eyes held a glimmer of Ginny.

They wept cleansing tears for their loss, cradled in each other's arms.

**A/N: **Okay. The Weasley's were all killed in the war – only Ginny survived. Just in case you didn't get that. ::shrugs:: Well, some people don't!


End file.
